Because part of me still felt that pull, still felt the echo of his gaze lingering on mine, like something unfinished, something unresolved.
And I hated it.
I hated how much it affected me. I hated how easily he could break through the walls I had built, how quickly everything inside me could shift just because of the way he looked at me. It made me feel exposed. Vulnerable in a way I hadn't allowed myself to be in a long time.
My eyes lifted again, almost against my will, drawn back to him.
He wasn't looking at me anymore.
Of course he wasn't.
He had turned slightly toward Lila now, his posture composed again, controlled, every movement precise and deliberate like nothing had happened at all. Like that moment between us had never existed.
And maybe it hadn't.
Maybe I had imagined it.
Maybe I had imagined all of it.
The thought stung more than I expected.
I exhaled slowly, the breath leaving me heavier than it should have, and let my gaze drift away this time, forcing myself to focus on something else—anything else. The room was still alive with energy, people talking in excited tones, glasses clinking, laughter rising and falling in waves. It was a celebration. A perfect, polished display of power and unity and alliances.
And I was standing in the middle of it, feeling completely out of place.
For a moment, I considered leaving. Just slipping away quietly, disappearing into the crowd, out of the hall, out of this suffocating atmosphere that felt like it was closing in on me with every passing second.
But I didn't move.
Because I couldn't.
Not yet.
Not when there were still too many questions. Not when nothing made sense. Not when a part of me—no matter how much I tried to silence it—still wanted to understand what that look had meant.
If it had meant anything at all.
My gaze flickered back once more, just briefly, just enough to catch a final glimpse of him in the light, standing exactly where he was meant to be, exactly where he belonged.
And for the first time that night, I felt the distance between us.
Not physical.
Something deeper.
Something far more dangerous.
And I didn't know if I would ever be able to close it.
It started with just one tear.
I didn't even feel it form. I didn't notice the moment my eyes blurred or when the weight in my chest finally spilled over into something visible. All I knew was that suddenly there was warmth trailing slowly down my cheek, cutting through the stillness I had forced onto my face. It felt out of place—too soft, too fragile for a room like this.
My breath caught faintly as I realized it, and instinctively, almost desperately, I lifted my hand and wiped it away. My fingers brushed lightly against my skin, quick, precise, as if erasing it fast enough would undo everything that had led to it.
But it didn't.
Because the feeling stayed.
Heavy.
Unshakable.
I swallowed hard, my throat tightening again as the noise of the hall pressed in around me. The laughter, the voices, the clinking of glasses—it all felt distant now, like I was standing underwater while the rest of the world carried on above me.
I couldn't stay here.
The thought came suddenly, sharp and clear, cutting through the fog in my mind.
I couldn't stand there another second.
Not in that room.Not in that light.Not with him… and her… and everyone watching, celebrating something that felt like it was quietly breaking me apart.
My body moved before my mind fully caught up.
I turned.
Fast.
Too fast for it to look natural, but I didn't care anymore. I didn't care about the people around me, about the eyes that might follow, about the questions that might come. All I knew was that I needed to get out.
Now.
I took a step forward, then another, my heels clicking against the polished floor, the sound sharper now, uneven, betraying the urgency I was trying and failing to control.
"Evie—"
The sound of my name cut through everything.
Familiar.
Close.
My chest tightened painfully.
I didn't stop.
I didn't turn.
I couldn't.
Because if I did—
If I looked back, even for a second—
I knew I wouldn't be able to leave.
And I needed to leave.
So I kept going.
Faster now.
Pushing through the crowd, brushing past shoulders, slipping between bodies that turned in quiet confusion as I moved. The warmth of the room clung to me, suffocating, but I didn't slow down. I couldn't.
My fingers tightened around my bag, gripping it like it was the only thing anchoring me to reality. The notebook inside it felt heavier than it should have, like it carried more than just ink and paper, like it held answers I hadn't even begun to understand yet.
At least this—
At least this wasn't nothing.
The thought flickered weakly through my mind, but it didn't bring the comfort I expected. Not when everything else felt like it was slipping out of my control.
"Evie!"
The voice came again.
Closer this time.
Stronger.
It sent something sharp through my chest, something that almost made me falter.
Almost.
But I forced myself forward.
No.
Not now.
I didn't want to hear anything. Not from him. Not after everything I had just seen. Not after the way he had stood there, in that light, beside someone else, as if… as if I had never mattered in the first place.
My vision blurred again, not just from the lights this time, but from the tears that were beginning to gather faster than I could stop them. I blinked quickly, but it didn't help.
They came anyway.
One after another.
Hot.
Unstoppable.
I pushed through the last stretch of the hall, barely aware of the people who stepped aside, their eyes lingering, their expressions shifting into something between confusion and quiet judgment.
I didn't care.
I couldn't care.
The doors loomed ahead, tall and open, leading out into the cool night air beyond the mansion.
Freedom.
Escape.